Greater Love
by ackeberlynn
Summary: A series of one-shots chronicling the unbreakable bond of the Bosco/Faith partnership in its many forms.  Lots and lots of angst.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**: The muse is a beast lately. I think it's because school is driving me batty, and this is my release.

**Disclaimer**: I claim the plot, not the characters or anything associated with Third Watch.

What follows will (hopefully) turn into a series of one-shots exploring the many trials and tribulations of the Bosco/Faith partnership.

There is sure to be loads of angst on both sides and lots of *hurt* Bosco - because I just love it when he's vulnerable.

This first one is set before the start of the series, in the early days of their partnership.

Enjoy!

**Chapter 1**: Closest Yet

* * *

He's teasing her as they trudge up the stairs of the apartment complex. Something about how her nostrils flair when she yells.

She rolls her eyes. "I guess you would know, Bosco. I yell at you more than my own damn kids."

She stares at the back of his shoulders and smiles as they shake while he laughs.

It's only been four years on this job; they've been paired as 55-David for two, and being his partner is one of the easiest things she's ever done.

She lives for these moments with him – the playful banter – these rare moments when he takes off his mask and allows his true self to shine through. She loves the silly side of Bosco.

Not that the chauvinistic bigot with a short fuse isn't really Bosco – it is. But it's only a small part of what makes up her complex partner. She knows that most of the time it's more an act than anything; something he does out of an instinct for self-preservation. Something she suspects is a byproduct of a troubled childhood.

Two years in, and she still doesn't have him completely figured out. Being partnered with Bosco is as easy as breathing – she can't imagine being paired with anyone else.

He's impulsive, easily excitable, obnoxious, and sometimes crude – but she sees past the surface-level flaws. She knows deep down he has a heart of gold. She can read it his eyes and body language whenever there's a tough call. She can tell by the passion he has for this job – he gives 100 percent of himself every day. And she knows it because of how often he's been loyal to her, backing her up and saving her life on numerous occasions.

His constant energy and devotion is a big part of what keeps her coming to work every day – it's contagious. Being partnered with Bosco makes her feel like a good cop, a good person, and she wouldn't trade that feeling for the world.

All this she reflects on as they make their way to the fifth floor.

"Remind me why we didn't take the elevator?" She huffs, knowing what his response will be.

"What, you getting out of shape, Yokas?" He smirks over his shoulder at her.

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a comment."

"You just did," he retorts, triumphantly.

"Shut up, Bosco." Her words are sharp, but he doesn't have to look to know that she's smiling.

She stands behind him as he squares himself in front of the apartment door.

They are here to serve a warrant for arrest for a parole violation. It's a typical day; a typical call.

"This place is so small," she comments softly, looking around and realizing how narrow the hallway is.

Bosco stands in front of her, hands on his hips, his elbows almost touching the walls.

He doesn't respond to her comment, instead studying the address scribbled on his flip pad.

"This it? 203?"

"Yeah, this is it," she answers, still talking quietly.

Pulling out his nightstick, he uses it to rap the on the door.

"Police! Open up!" He shouts, voice reverberating off of the walls.

He raps again, more forcefully, and a nervous voice answers from inside.

"Alright! Alright! Just a minute!"

The door opens a crack, held by the chain, and they see half of a man's sweaty face peeking out at them.

"Are you Matthew Chamberlin?" Bosco demands.

"Y-yes, why? I didn't do nothing!" The man's voice is high pitched and shaky. He's probably high.

"Sir, we have a warrant for your arrest; you're going to have to come with us," Faith says from behind her partner.

There's a pause, and the man on the other side of the door seems to stand a little straighter.

"Sir, you're gonna have to open this door," Bosco tells him in a warning tone.

"Okay…okay, yes. Just a minute." The man disappears, and the door closes; little clicking sounds can be heard from the other side as the man unlocks the door.

Bosco shoots an impatient look at Faith before turning again to face the door.

The noises have stopped.

Bosco frowns. "Mr. Chamberlin?" He calls, unconsciously reaching for his gun as his gut begins to scream that something is wrong.

He's just about to lift a hand to push on the door when he's violently thrown back by a deafening blast.

He slams backward into Faith, who is barely able to wrap her arms around his torso before he lands on top of her, knocking the air from her lungs.

She quickly struggles to a sitting position, shifting until her back is against the wall. She drags her partner with her, clasping his limp form to her chest.

Her head turns toward the apartment, and she sees the giant hole in the wooden door made by a shotgun blast. Her heart is pounding so loud in her ears that she can't think – fear grips her.

She flinches involuntarily as the door suddenly smashes to the ground, and Chamberlin steps out into the hallway, shotgun in his hands.

Faith's mouth goes dry as he steps toward them, the gun quivering in his grip. He's sweating profusely and shaking - she recognizes the signs of withdrawal.

This is a dangerous man.

She knows she should grab her gun, protect her partner and herself, but she is paralyzed.

Her mind is frozen – thoughts won't form, she can only stare at this man who stands wavering before her with a deadly weapon. This man who may have killed her partner.

Then, a thought takes full shape – '_Oh my god…what if he killed Bosco?_'

Her breath hitches, and she blinks away sudden tears.

"Please…." She pleads with the man. "P-please."

It's all she can get past trembling lips. She doesn't dare move, not wanting to frighten the man into shooting again.

Chamberlin's eyes are black with a drugged madness and a primal fear. He stares at her for a moment, then clutches the gun to his chest and runs.

Faith lets out a sob of relief. Suddenly she can think again, breathe again.

She raises a shaking hand up to her radio. She's surprised at how calm her voice sounds.

Breathless, but calm.

"55-David to Central. We have shots fired at this location. I repeat, 10-13, shots fired. There is an officer down. Send backup and EMS, forthwith."

"You 'kay?" The quiet, breathy words startle her, and she clutches more urgently at the body of her partner, still slumped against her.

It takes a moment to register that he's breathing…talking, even. She's momentarily stunned.

"Bosco?"

"You said…officer down. You 'kay?" There's a hitch in his words as he winces, squirming in her grip.

"I'm fine. I called it for you." She doesn't want to let him go. She doesn't want to see how bad he is.

"…think I got shot," Bosco mutters, wincing again. "With a damn shotgun."

"Yeah," she whispers, and there are tears in her voice this time.

"Faith…?" He sounds concerned now, and twists out of her arms to turn and get a look at her.

Halfway through the move, he gasps and slumps over in pain, his hands scrabbling at his chest.

"Bos! Here, let me see…let me see where you're hit," she says, jolted into action.

Frantic hands push him down, laying him flat, then rip open his coat to pull up the blue NYPD shirt covering the mottled kevlar.

She bites her lip when she sees the vest, peppered with bullets across his torso.

"Think the vest caught 'em all," he mutters weakly, his eyes shut with pain. "Hurts like hell though."

It's no small admission, coming from him.

Her eyes and hands continue to check him over, as they hear sirens off in the distance.

She freezes when she notices wetness on the inside of his left upper arm.

"Oh my god," she whispers, pulling a hand back covered in blood.

His eyes fly open – she's scared him. "Wha'? What is it?"

"I think one missed your vest," she tells him, immediately attempting to get his arm out of the jacket so she can assess the damage.

He levers himself up on one elbow so he can see for himself, then grimaces and pulls away from her.

"Ah, s'nothing. Just a flesh wound, looks like."

"Nothing? _Nothing_?" Her voice rises, and his brow furrows when he realizes he's angered her.

"Faith, I'm okay." He tells her firmly, reaching out with his good arm to snag her sleeve.

She shakes her head and turns away, knowing that backup has arrived by the loudness of the sirens. She doesn't let go of him though, still keeping a hand on his good arm.

There are footsteps on the stairs, and Sully steps into the hallway with his gun drawn, followed closely by another officer, Pete Dullen.

"You guys, okay?" Sully asks, unable to hide his concern.

"Just peachy," Bosco answers, his voice raspy from the pain. "You can put the guns away. Stupid jag-off ran."

"What the hell happened to you?" Dullen asks, chewing his gum loudly.

"Got peppered by a shotgun," Bosco replies, his breath running out every four words or so. "Right through the door."

"I can see that," Sully comments, whistling at the size of the hole in the door.

"You alright, Yokas?" Dullen turns his attention to her crouched form.

"Yeah I'm fine, Pete, thanks." She says it a little quickly, and Bosco shoots her a concerned look.

"The medics are right behind us," Sully informs them.

Sure enough, Doc and Jerry enter the crowded space and kneel next to Bosco's prone form.

"What the hell, Bosco…is this from a shotgun?" Jerry asks loudly, hands skimming the vest.

"Yeah," Bosco mutters, biting hard on his lower lip when the larger medic accidentally jars him.

"Did you lose consciousness at all?" Doc asks, ever the professional. He eases the young officer back so he is laying flat again, then shines a penlight into his eyes.

Faith watches as her partner clenches his eyes shut. She guesses the adrenaline is wearing off and he's really starting to feel it now that he's being poked and prodded.

"Yeah, I think I was out for a minute," he admits quietly, and his weary eyes open, searching for hers.

Sensing his discomfort, she scoots closer to him and discreetly takes his hand.

"You're really lucky, Bosco," Doc tells him, bandaging up the officer's left arm. "This one is just a flesh wound. Through and through."

He looks over at her and grins. "Told ya," he whispers.

She shakes her head, but smiles for his sake.

He gasps as they roll him onto the stretcher, and she is forced to let go of his hand.

Doc carefully places an oxygen mask over Bosco's mouth and nose, and he and Jerry prepare to lift him down the stairs.

The medics talk to him the whole way down, and he mutters barely-audible smartass replies right back. But by the time they are to the bottom and out the door, she notices that Bosco's eyes are tightly shut, face scrunched up in pain, hair damp with sweat.

"Are you gonna ride with him, Faith?" Doc turns to ask her. She nods.

"Yeah, thanks."

Hopping inside the ambulance, her hand quickly finds his under the blanket he's wrapped up in, and his eyes shoot open, momentarily confused and glazed over with pain.

"Hey. It's just me," she soothes.

He gives her a small smile behind the oxygen mask, and lets his eyes drift shut.

* * *

Later, at the hospital, she waits for word of his condition. She knows it's not as bad as it could have been – they were lucky, but it does nothing to ease her mind.

It's never been this close.

In two years – she's never come so close to losing him.

She snaps back to reality as Proctor walks up to her. "Faith? You ready to see him?"

"How is he?"

"The doctor will be able to tell you more, but it's not serious. He was very lucky."

"He was," Faith nods absently, still unable to shake the surrealness of it all.

She's still in a daze when she follows Proctor into the exam room.

"Dr. Redmon, this is Faith Yokas. She's Officer Boscorelli's partner."

As Proctor leaves, the doctor reaches out to shake Faith's hand.

She peeks over his shoulder at the bed, where her partner lies sleeping.

Noticing her gaze, he explains. "Oh, we've got him on some pain medication right now. He'll be sleeping on and off for the next couple hours."

"How is he?" She asks.

"Oh, let's see," the doctor looks back at the chart in his hand. "Two fractured ribs and a hell of a lot of bruising to the bone and muscle – he's gonna be sore for awhile."

"What about the one that missed his vest?"

"It was a clean shot. It only took six stitches to close."

Dr. Redmon smiles sympathetically at her nervousness.

"Really, he's fine. He just needs to take it easy for awhile. I would admit him as a precaution, but the nurses tell me he'll just sign himself out as soon as he's conscious. Should I give you his home care instructions?"

"Yeah, of course. Thank you."

"Alright, I'll be back in a little while," he says, leaving the room.

Tentatively, she walks over to the bed, watching her partner sleep.

She smiles as his hands twitch restlessly against the sheets. He's always in motion.

The smile quickly fades as images from the day flash before her eyes, and she slumps into a nearby chair, emotionally exhausted.

* * *

He's first aware of the elephant sitting on his chest. Then the sting of the bullet crease on his arm.

Everything is sore, and he feels a small bit of frustration as the pain rouses him to consciousness.

He senses movement near the bed, and ventures to open his eyes.

It's his partner, looking down at him worriedly. He doesn't like that look.

"Hey," he manages, voice cracking from a dry mouth.

"Hey yourself," she says, handing him a small plastic cup of water.

He takes a few sips before easing himself back down on the pillows.

He frowns at her, noting how unsettled she looks.

"Hell of a day, huh?" He comments.

"I'd say that's an understatement." She's sarcastic and won't make eye contact. He knows he has to nip this in the bud.

"Hey. Faith. Hey. Look at me."

He waits until he can see her eyes – worried pools of green.

"We're here. We're okay. That's all that matters."

She doesn't answer, just bites her lower lip and stares at his sheets.

"You okay?" he asks finally.

"I'm fine," she says quietly. "It was you I was worried about."

He exhales slowly and shifts a little in the bed.

"You ever find it funny, how things happen?" he asks, staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

She waits, knowing how superstitious he is and guessing he's about to wax philosophical on her.

"I made a rookie mistake," he says, voice distant. "You don't stand in front a door like that. I mean, they teach you at the academy to stand off to the side. 'Course, the damn hallway was so narrow that we couldn't really do it the right way."

He pauses before continuing, and she watches his jaw muscles move as he speaks.

"You were behind me," he continues. "And you're what, like an inch shorter than me?"

The question is rhetorical, she knows.

"If I hadn't been standing in front of you, that shotgun blast might've gotten you – but not in the vest."

She blanches at the thought. If she'd been in front, the blast would've hit her partially in the neck, maybe even blowing her head off.

She shivers involuntarily. Why must he do this?

He fixes her with an intense stare. "I'm glad it went down the way it did. Today was a good day."

She swallows before speaking, absently running her fingers over a dent in the bed sheets.

"I froze up," she blurts out. "Chamberlin, he was coming out of the apartment – he had that shotgun pointed right at us and…I froze."

She can't look at him as she makes her confession.

"I mean…it was like everything I was taught flew out the window. I couldn't think. It was like I was paralyzed or something. And he could've finished us off right there. I was so sure he was going to."

"Faith," his voice is quiet but commanding, and she reluctantly meets his gaze. "If you would've pulled your gun on Chamberlin, we wouldn't be here right now. The guy was nuts."

"Yeah, but…I froze. I didn't back you up," she insists.

"I think," he begins slowly. "I think there's always gonna be things we can't control. You did what you could. It was all you could do."

He closes his eyes then, worn out from the talking. "You didn't leave me lying alone in the middle of that hallway," he continues. "S'good enough for me, partner."

He stills as his mind is assaulted with a flashback.

* * *

_He comes to, smelling gunpowder, hearing only the painful ringing in his ears. _

_He is slumped against something warm, lumpy, and trembling; it scares him to think it might be his partner's body. _

_Faintly, he hears her voice calling for backup and EMS, saying that an officer is down. Hearing her speak calms him, but doesn't completely allay his fears. _

_Despite the intense, stabbing pressure in his chest, he forces his eyes open, taking small, shallow breaths. He's determined to find out what happened, and he needs to see for himself that she's unharmed. _

_As awareness slowly dawns, he can feel her arms wrapped securely around him, and in a small way finds it comforting, because its his partner._

_

* * *

_He's eased back to the present by the sound of her sigh.

"If we were gonna go out, we were gonna go out together," she says slowly, seriously. "You know?"

He nods once, firmly, eyes still closed.

"That's the way good partners do it."

Then he opens his eyes again and waggles his eyebrows, smirking at the sexual innuendo.

Faith snorts, and lightly slaps his good arm. "Bos, you're such a pig."

The moment is lost as the bubble of tension bursts, doubt and apprehension ebbing from the room as the partners return to a semblance of normalcy.

"Yeah, but you love me anyway, right?" Her partner retorts.

She does. She really does.

* * *

**A/N**: Reviews are good for the soul.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**: Had to get this out. This is officially IT until the New Year. The muse has been sucking up way too much of my time and energy.

A simple albeit fluffy Christmas chapter, set in their second year of B/F's partnership, thus pre-TW.

**Bit o' Research**: According to the NYPD website, 10-13 is code for "Officer in Danger" and 10-84 is code for "Arrived on Scene" – also, I am not a doctor, but I did look up some stuff for this chapter. If it's wrong, I apologize.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the song, nor any characters from Third Watch.

**Chapter 2**: Two Miracles

* * *

"_So call on your angels, you're beaten and broken,  
It's time that we mended, so they don't fade with the Season  
Let our mercy be the gifts we lay, from Brooklyn and to Broadway,  
Celebrate each and every day, of this New York City Christmas_

_Yeah, I'm sending you a Merry New York Christmas,  
And a prayer for peace on earth within our time  
Hear the sidewalk angels echo hallelujah,  
We understand them, now more than ever  
Merry New York Christmas…"_

-Rob Thomas

* * *

"What is this guy's problem?" Bosco grumbles indignantly from behind the wheel of the RMP, eyes fixed on the dark-clad figure sitting in the driver's seat of the dark colored sedan parked in the middle of the street.

"The car's running. Maybe he's waiting for someone in that apartment," Faith suggests, rolling her eyes as her impatient partner slams his palm against the horn.

"Yeah, well I ain't sitting here waiting for this jagoff."

Bosco reaches down to flash the lights and sirens, then pulls the mic to his mouth to yell into the speakerphone. His voice echoes in the deserted street.

"Sir, you need to move your vehicle."

Yet the car remains in front of them, and Bosco's head falls back against the seat, an annoyed sigh escaping his lips.

"I can't believe this."

"Bos, take it easy. He's probably just waiting for someone," Faith repeats.

"Well he can't just park in the middle of the damn road!" he retorts irritably.

He's been on edge all day, but she can't figure out why.

"_You'd think at least one day out of the whole year you could try and be decent!"_ She'd yelled at him earlier in the day, hoping to get a rise out of him so that he would finally tell her whatever it was that was making him so bitchy.

He'd just sighed and ignored her.

"It's Christmas Eve, Bos. Give the guy a break," Faith admonishes him, shaking her head at his scowl.

He won't respond, just grits his teeth in anger as he flashes the lights and sirens again.

Faith sighs and glances out the passenger window at the blizzard-like conditions.

The snow has been accumulating since the early morning, giving them a mercifully slow shift. Bad weather seemed to keep even the brashest of criminals indoors.

Rapid snowfall continued throughout their shift, accompanied by bitingly cold wind gusts as the sun went down. Needless to say, neither officer is too keen on having to get out of the RMP in these conditions. They've been ducking minor calls for at least an hour, driving slowly around their sector to try and keep their car from getting stuck in the snow and slush.

"Look, if we sit here too long with the snow falling like this, we're gonna get stuck. And when that happens, I'm gonna make _you_ dig us out!" Bosco tells her snidely.

"Well, what do you wanna do Bos, arrest him on Christmas Eve? God – just give him a few minutes!"

Frustrated, Bosco gets back on the speakerphone. "Move the damn car! I'm not gonna say it again!"

When the car still does not move, Bosco shakes his head.

"Does he not hear me?" he mutters incredulously, growing more angry by the second.

He presses the button on his door to roll down the window, undeterred by the sharp gust of cold air and snow that hits his face as he sticks his head outside.

"Hey! Move your ass!" He shouts, honking the horn again.

"Bosco! Will you shut the damn window? It's freezing!"

"If he doesn't move, we're gonna have to get out, anyway!" he shoots back.

Faith bites her lower lip, leaning forward in her seat to squint more closely at the vehicle. The driver has made no attempt to comply with their requests.

"Maybe he's sick or hurt or something," she mutters, looking back at her partner with a face full of concern. "You think?"

"Yeah, or maybe he's just being an ass," Bosco replies, rolling his eyes.

"Who would be an ass on Christmas Eve?" Faith asks, giving him a disdainful look.

"Please! If anything people are _worse _this time of year," Bosco informs her, his face contorted into a scowl.

She nods, her next words pointed and dripping with sarcasm. "Well, I guess you'd know all about being an ass during the holidays."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" He demands, opening his door to step out.

She doesn't answer as she opens her own door and shivers in the bone-chilling night air.

Suddenly, the loud crack of a gunshot reverberates off the surrounding buildings, and both officers duck instinctively and reach for their guns. They look up just in time to see a man in a ski mask and brown jacket run down the steps of the apartment building, throw himself across the hood of the car, and slide into the passenger seat.

The dark colored sedan is in motion, tires squealing, before either officer slams the doors to the RMP.

"55-David to Central, we have shots fired in an apartment building at 112 North Chester. Suspect has fled the scene in a dark 4-door sedan. License plate number, charlie-victor-victor-4197. We are in pursuit heading east," Faith yells into the radio as they chase the car down dimly lit streets.

"I knew something was up," Bosco says through grit teeth. "This bastard's got nowhere to go now."

"How fast is he going?" Faith asks worried, one hand braced against the dashboard.

"It's gotta be at least 60," he answers, tires squealing as he makes a sharp turn and the RMP fishtails.

"Careful, Bos – there's ice!" she shouts, feeling the tires of the RMP shimmy underneath them in the snow and slush.

"He's not getting away from me, Faith," Bosco responds, his jaw set.

"Yeah, well I'd like to get home to my kids tonight!"

He glances at her for a second before nodding slightly, easing up on the gas.

"He's gonna lose it!" Bosco yells out seconds later as the sedan hits a patch of ice and begins swerving dangerously.

He fights to bring the RMP to halt as its own tires slip on the same ice patch, quickly bringing the careening vehicle to a full stop without hitting anything.

The driver of the sedan is not so lucky.

It slides sideways toward the guardrail, its momentum causing the car to flip over the embankment straight down into the Hudson River.

"Oh my god!" Bosco utters harshly, and is out of the RMP and running like hell for the water in seconds.

"Bosco, wait!" Faith screams, following, but unsure of what has him so riled. "We need to wait for EMS and Rescue!"

He ignores her frantic calls, stripping off his jacket and gun belt and tossing them into the snow as he runs.

She hadn't seen what he had seen.

For just before the car flipped over the guardrail, bathed in the headlights of the RMP, he saw a flash of pink cloth and long blonde hair through the back window of the sedan.

There is a little girl in the back seat of the car. And the car is quickly sinking into the icy waters of the Hudson River.

"Bosco! You can't go in there! It's freezing!" Faith yells, watching in horror as her partner dives off of the embankment into the murky water. Faintly, she hears sirens in the distance.

"55-David to Central, we have a car over the embankment in the Hudson River, with a victim still entrapped. My partner is attempting to extricate. We need backup, FDNY, and EMS to respond to this location forthwith!"

"_55-Charlie is 10-84."_

She slips slightly in the snow as she makes her way down the embankment, shining her flashlight on the spot where her partner's head just dipped below the surface, the same spot where the car had sunk moments before. Absently she wonders how cold the water is, as the snow continues to fall and what little daylight they'd had continues to fade.

"Bosco!" She screams again, edging closer to the water as she sees his head break the surface once more, only to go under again.

"Yokas!" She turns at the sound of her name and sees Sully, who'd been riding solo today, making his way down to them, his flashlight beam dancing across the snow.

"Bosco went after the car!" She yells back, unable to hide the high-pitched panic in her voice.

"He's in the water?" Sully asks incredulously, shining his flashlight out across the River. "It's freezing, what the hell is he thinking?"

"I don't know…I don't know…" Faith yanks at the radio clipped to her shoulder. "Central, where the hell is FDNY and EMS? We have a 10-13 at this location!"

"_55-David, FDNY and EMS have already been dispatched,"_ the woman's monotone voice responds. Faith wants to reach through the radio and strangle her for her calmness.

"I see him!" Sully exclaims suddenly, pointing out at the water.

Bosco is slowly swimming back to shore, and Faith's heart nearly stops when she sees the limp bundle in his arms. She now knows why Bosco jumped into the freezing water.

"Oh my god…it's a little girl…there was a little girl in that car!"

"I'll get the blankets out of the trunk of the RMP," Sully says, pushing his way back up the embankment.

Faith runs down closer to the water's edge, where Bosco is now struggling to climb onto the embankment with the girl.

"Help me!" He shouts hoarsely, his limbs no longer working properly.

Faith reaches down and drags the girl onto the snow-covered ground before turning to grab Bosco's arm and pull him out of the frigid waters.

He takes no more than a few steps before he collapses, his frozen legs no longer able to carry his weight.

"Sully! Get those blankets down here, now!" Faith screams, hands latched tightly onto her partner's quivering arms.

Weakly, he pushes Faith away from him. "The g-girl…h-help her…."

Reluctantly she releases him and kneels next to the limp child in the snow, leaning down to check if she's breathing.

She starts CPR just as Sully falls on his knees in the snow next to her shaking partner.

Bosco sits hunched on his knees in the snow, arms wrapped tightly around his torso, shivering badly. He's exhausted, and his upper body sways with fatigue, as if he will fall over any second.

"Damn you're cold. What were you thinking, going out there?" Sully chides, wrapping Bosco's formerly discarded coat around his shoulders before packing one of the blankets tightly around his smaller frame.

He turns to toss the second one to Faith.

"Sh-sh-sh-she…okay?" Bosco asks dazedly, barely able to get the words past numb and trembling lips.

"Just worry about yourself right now," Sully huffs, vigorously rubbing the younger man's upper arms. "Jesus, you're turning blue."

But Bosco doesn't seem to be listening, and he suddenly tips forward into Sully's arms.

"Bosco? Bosco! Stay with me okay? We've got EMS coming," Sully tells him, shaking his shoulders.

"C-c-cold…." Bosco whispers, then grimaces and weakly tries to push Sully away.

"Of course you're cold. Crazy son of a bitch. Now, don't fight me; we have to get you warmed up."

"Sully! I need some help here!" Faith calls desperately from where she is kneeling over the girl's limp body. She can't be more than eleven or twelve, with long curly blonde hair and almost translucent skin.

As soon as the older officer steps away to assist her, Bosco feels his mind drift, his body again tilting to the side.

Within seconds he is huddled in a ball on his side in the snow. He closes his eyes as his body is wracked with violent shakes.

"Damn it, Bosco!" Sully shouts, standing once more. He grabs the clipped on radio and yells into it, clearly panicked. "Central, _where the hell is EMS?_ We have an officer down!"

Not waiting for an answer, he drops again to Bosco's side.

"Bosco! Bosco, wake up!" He roughly shakes the officer's shoulder until his eyes flutter open, snowflakes freezing to wet eyelashes.

"Sul?" Unfocused blue eyes stare up at the older man, exhaustion evident in their depths.

"Yeah, it's me. Just hang in there, alright? Keep your eyes open."

"S'cold. S' a w-window open?" He whispers uncertainly; Sully barely able to discern the slurred words.

"It's December," Sully replies, ignoring the question as he hastily re-secures the blanket around Bosco's shivering form. "You jumped in the Hudson River in the middle of December. Your stupidity has reached a whole new level."

It's the fear talking. Bosco's disorientation scares Sully more than he'd ever admit.

"What the hell is taking so long, Central?" he snaps into the radio again.

"_5-Charlie be advised: FDNY is assisting a hotel fire on 108th, and Boy-55-3 is stuck in a snowbank."_ The dispatcher's words are not encouraging, and Sully shuts his eyes in irritation.

"Sully, how is he?" Faith calls frantically from where she is still performing CPR on the little girl.

"Not good," he replies honestly, staring worriedly at Bosco's hunched form.

Bosco slumps again toward the ground, and actually whimpers this time when Sully pulls him into a sitting position. It is a sound so uncharacteristic to Bosco, that it completely unnerves the older man.

He mumbles something then, barely coherent, and suddenly Sully knows they can't wait anymore.

"Come on, they can't wait for the bus – we'll take 'em ourselves," he tells Faith finally. "Can you carry her to your RMP?"

"I don't think she's breathing," Faith answers breathlessly. "Should we move her?"

"I don't think we have a choice. They can't stay out here any longer," Sully answers grimly, then bends down to manhandle Bosco to his feet, stooping to slip one of his arms around his neck.

Faith quickly scoops the little girl into her arms, then starts making her way up the embankment.

"Bosco? Bosco, talk to me," Sully demands as he half-drags the smaller man through the snow.

"B-b-b-bite me. S'c-o-ld." the younger officer mutters drunkenly, barely able to move his legs to walk.

"We're just gonna get you up to the RMP, Bosco. Then you'll be warm," Sully tells him.

"…th-th-think I'll jus' s-stay here…." Bosco slurs, and his whole body suddenly goes slack.

Sully curses loudly, then bends down to put one arm under Bosco's knees, and the other across his back. As he lifts, he definitely feels something pull in his lower back, but pushes the minor discomfort aside.

Bosco is a dead weight in his arms, and his shallow, raspy breathing does nothing to ease Sully's mind.

"You'd better not die on me, Boscorelli…you hear me? Not tonight. Not like this," he whispers fiercely as he trudges through the snow to 55-Charlie and eases the younger man down onto the passenger seat.

Sully can hear Faith on the radio, frantic words being yelled to the dispatcher. "Central be advised, we are transporting two patients, and officer and a young child, to Mercy for hypothermia!"

"Yokas, are you good to go?" He shouts at her over the hood of 55-Charlie.

"Yeah, go!" She waves him off, her eyes wild with worry, then ducks behind the wheel of 55-David, the unconscious little girl already bundled in the passenger seat.

Sully talks to Bosco the entire drive to the hospital, occasionally reaching across the seat to press his fingers against the ice cold skin of the younger officer's neck to feel for a pulse.

A few times he hears the other man moan softly as the car bounces along snowy streets.

It's his only reassurance that Bosco is still alive.

* * *

The stupidity of jumping in the river is not lost on him.

He'd been driven by the terror that the little girl wrapped in the pink winter coat would drown in those icy waters on Christmas Eve. He couldn't have lived with that, not when there was a chance to save her.

He'd known it was a bad idea as soon his body hit the water. Cold like he'd never experienced before immediately took his breath away, every nerve-ending bursting with agony. He swears he could feel his muscles constricting in pain, and it took everything he had to swim out to that sinking car.

By the time he went under the first time, his body was comfortably numb, his mind on overdrive.

He hadn't been able to pull the back driver's side door open at first, and had cursed inwardly as he swam back up for more air.

The second time around, he'd gripped the frame of the door with numb fingers and kicked in the window with the heel of his boot.

Reaching in to wrap his arms around the still, limp body of the little girl, he pushed off the roof of the vehicle and kicked madly for the surface.

By that time, he was growing tired, and it was getting increasingly difficult to breath with the added weight of the child in his arms.

He'd gritted his teeth stubbornly, trying not to focus on his burning lungs. The only thing that mattered was getting her to shore.

By the time he'd felt his knees scrape against the bottom of the River, he was unable to force his limbs to push him or the girl any farther out of the water.

"Help me!" he'd screamed desperately at his partner. Faith had immediately rushed forward to grab the little girl and haul him out of the water and onto his feet.

It was the oddest sensation, not being able to feel his legs, yet he remembers feeling no alarm as he promptly fell into a heap onto the snowy bank.

As soon as his legs gave out he knows he scared the shit out of Faith, as she yelled out to Sully with barely-concealed panic.

Everything seemed like it was in slow motion, sights and sounds distant and distorted.

He vaguely heard shouting; felt Faith gripping his arms, but all he could think about was the little girl, and he pushed her away.

A face appeared above him then, and he recognized Officer Sullivan.

"EMS is on their way, Bosco," Sully had said, donning him with his jacket and wrapping a blanket around his shoulders.

He'd asked about the girl, barely managing to form words through uncontrollable shivers.

"Just worry about yourself right now," Sully told him, and it occurred to Bosco that his efforts may have been in vain.

How long had she been under?

Was she already dead?

The world began to tip and spin dizzily, and it was getting harder for him to concentrate, to keep his eyes opened. He felt very, very tired, the weight of his limbs pulling him to the ground.

He knows he was talking after that, or at least trying to, but he can't remember what he said.

Then Sully pulled him to his feet, and his vision went fuzzy around the edges.

He remembers nothing after that.

* * *

She's sitting outside of his hospital room, staring blankly at the opposing wall.

She still can't believe what happened.

The nurses tell her that his core body temperature has risen back to its normal level, though when they brought him in, it was 92 degrees. The doctor had told her if he'd have been out there any longer, he could have suffered damage to his internal organs, or even have slipped into a coma and died.

But they got him here in time, and she tells herself that's all that matters.

Lifting her cell phone to her ear, she waits to hear the comfortingly familiar sound of her husband's voice.

"_Faith?"_

"Fred. Hey. Listen, I'm at the hospital."

"_What happened?"_ Fred asks, his voice laced with obvious concern.

"I'm fine – it's Bosco. There was a car that went into the river, and he jumped in to save this little girl. We had to bring them both in for hypothermia."

Fred lets out a long-suffering sigh.

"_Is he alright?"_

She nods, though Fred can't see it. It's more to reassure herself.

"He will be. It was just a really close call tonight. And it's Christmas Eve...I just want to stay until his mother gets here."

There's a reluctant pause on the other end of the line. She knows how hard this is for him. It's Christmas Eve, and he had hoped his wife would be home at a decent hour. But she can't apologize for this. And she won't.

"_Okay. Just…just call me before you leave the hospital so I know when to expect you."_

"Okay. I love you. Bye."

A nurse walks up just as she is snapping her phone shut, and smiles warmly.

"Your partner's awake."

"He's okay?"

"His temp. is stable and his vitals are good. Dr. Murdoch said he could be released within the hour."

"That's great, thanks," Faith replies, relieved that her partner won't have to spend Christmas Eve in a hospital room.

"Oh, nurse – um…do you know anything about the girl we brought in?"

The nurse grows somber as she replies, "She's alive. But she's in a coma."

Faith nods sadly. Somehow she'd been hoping for two miracles tonight.

When she walks into Bosco's room and finds him sitting up, awake and alert, she decides promptly that one miracle is enough.

"Hey," she greets him with a soft smile.

"Hey," his voice sounds a bit hoarse, but he looks good. His face no longer appears pale and blue-tinged, and his eyes have lost their glazed look.

"Faith – you gotta try one of these warming blankets!" He tells her excitedly. "I'm so warm, I don't wanna move!"

"You still cold?" She asks, concerned.

He predictably shrugs her off. "I'm fine. How's the girl?"

"She's alive," Faith says simply, not wanting to hurt him.

"But…?" He prompts, crestfallen. "Come on, Faith. I know there's a 'but'."

"She's in a coma."

"Oh."

"Bos, you saved her life—"

"Faith, don't," he says with a wave of his hand. His eyes roam the room aimlessly, trying to hide his disappointment. "Does she have any family?"

"Her father was the driver," Sully interjects, making his presence known in the doorway.

"You're kiddin'," Bosco retorts in disbelief. "I thought she was kidnapped or somethin'."

"Nope. And get this – the shots you heard in the apartment beforehand? It was an armed robbery, and according to witnesses, the man who did it was known addict in that area; a friend of the father's."

"So they robbed some guy for dope money," Bosco summarized, shaking his head in disgust.

"Yeah, and that poor little girl was in the back seat," Faith adds sadly. "Hey, any word on other relatives she might have? A mother?"

"Social services is trying to track down the mother as we speak. I'm sure they'll find her."

Sully turns to Bosco. "How're you doing, by the way?"

"Just about ready to get out of here."

"It was a stupid thing you did back there, you know. But I'm glad you're alright."

Bosco, realizing that in some backhanded way Sully is complimenting him, rolls his eyes and scoffs.

"All in a day's work," he replies cockily, because it is expected, then adds a sincere, "Thanks for savin' my ass, Sul."

"Oh, Bos! I forgot to tell you. I've been trying to get a hold of your mom, but she's not answering her phone – do you know where she is?" Faith suddenly exclaims.

She can tell by the sudden stormy look in Bosco's eyes that she's said something wrong, but can't think of what it could be. Sully notices it too, and takes it as his cue to leave.

"Well. It's been an eventful night. I think I'm gonna head out. Merry Christmas, you two."

"Merry Christmas, Sully," Faith answers distractedly. Her mind is still on her brooding partner.

"Why'd you have to bring that up?" Bosco asks irritably after Sully leaves.

"Bring what up?"

"My Ma. Why'd you have to call her? Just leave her out of it."

Faith's brow wrinkles in a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "Bos, it's Christmas Eve, and you're laying up in a hospital bed. I kinda thought she'd wanna know."

"I'm pretty sure she doesn't," is the resentful reply, and her mind rewinds to earlier in his shift, remembering his sullenness.

Is this the reason why he was in such a bad mood all day?

"You guys aren't spending Christmas together this year?" She asks, and for a moment the veil slips, and she can read it all in his eyes.

"She's out of town with her new boyfriend," he says, mouth twisting in disgust on the last word.

"But don't you like…go over to her place every year?"

"I don't approve of the boyfriend," Bosco explains angrily, not making eye contact. "She's pissed at me."

"Oh. I'm sorry—" She begins, but he quickly cuts her off with a glare.

"I don't need your pity."

His anger only saddens her. He shouldn't have to feel this way on Christmas Eve. He should have his mother here waiting for him, fussing over him. He should at least have someplace to go—family.

"What about Mikey?" She asks, knowing full well that she's on dangerous ground now.

"What, you think he gives a damn about Christmas? I haven't even spoken to him in three months."

He shoves the blankets off him then, easing off of the bed gingerly. Wincing, he carefully pulls out the IV that pumped him full of painkillers which are just beginning to wear off.

Even now, hours later, his muscles ache from the bone-deep cold of the river.

"I'm gonna get dressed; call a cab…." He looks up at her, his expression unreadable. "Go home, Faith. It's Christmas Eve. Go be with your family."

She watches as he pulls his now-dry t-shirt on, then his NYPD turtleneck sweater. It is a painstakingly long process as his fingers are clumsy, his muscles tight and sore. She sees the dark shadows under his eyes, the exhausted slump of his shoulders, and she knows she can't leave him alone.

The words are out of her mouth before she can think of how to phrase them without him taking offense.

"Why don't you come home with me? Spend Christmas with me and Fred and the kids."

His head shoots up to glare at her.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I told you, Faith, I don't want your damn pity!" The words are spoken with such vehemence that it sends him into a short coughing fit.

"Is everything alright in here?" Mary Proctor walks in, heading over to Bosco's bed. "I wanted to check your vitals one more time before you sign out."

"I'm fine," her partner rasps irritably, and the older nurse rolls her eyes.

Proctor clucks her tongue as she checks Bosco's blood pressure and pulse, then listens to his heart and lungs. This young police officer has been in the hospital numerous times over the past two years for all sorts of injuries and illnesses, yet he's escaped serious harm once again.

"You're a lucky man, Boscorelli," she comments with a shake of her head. "But then again, it _is_ Christmas."

Faith swallows before speaking. "Proctor, do you think…I mean should someone stay with him tonight?"

Bosco groans loudly in exasperated protest.

Proctor frowns. "It'd probably be a good idea. Just to make sure he stays warm and gets plenty of rest. It's rare that complications arise once we've stabilized body temperature, but it is possible."

She turns to again to Bosco. "You're gonna be real tired and sore for a couple days. I can fill out a prescription for muscle relaxers, if you want."

"I'm fine!" Bosco retorts, his voice cracking.

"You'll have to watch out for signs of pneumonia, too" Proctor continues. "You probably got some of that river water in your lungs. Does your throat hurt?"

Bosco rolls his eyes and crosses his arms defiantly in front of his chest. "Just get me the damn forms so I can sign myself out, how 'bout that?"

"Alright, alright. They'll be at the front desk when you're ready," she says, throwing her hands up and hurriedly leaving the room.

Before she leaves, she pats Faith on the arm and smiles knowingly. "Merry Christmas Faith, and good luck."

"I'm _not _going home with you, Faith," he mutters stubbornly.

"Bosco, look – it's not out of pity, alright? It's because you're my partner, and we've both had a rough night. I could've lost you."

She pauses, the weight of her own words hitting her for the first time.

"God, Bos…I almost lost my partner on Christmas Eve."

"Yeah, but you didn't. I'm still here."

"That's not the point. I just…you're my partner. And you're my best friend. And it would mean a lot to me if you spent Christmas with me and my family."

Bosco hangs his head. She can't tell whether it's a concession, or whether he's just too tired to argue anymore. Either way, she knows she's won this battle.

"What does Fred say?" He asks, wincing as he bends to pull on his pants. Faith automatically turns to face the door to give him some privacy.

"He's fine with it," she lies, and is glad he can't see it in her face.

Fred will understand. He _has_ to.

* * *

She drives the RMP back to the stationhouse so they can change. She has to wait fifteen minutes for him in the locker room because he's so stiff and sore that it takes him forever to change in to civvies.

By the time they're in the cab to take them to Faith's apartment, it's 1 a.m., and he's fallen asleep, head turned toward the window.

"Bos, we're here," she says suddenly, and his head shoots up in confusion.

"Remember? You're spending the night at my place?" She explains patiently, letting him get his bearings. He must've been sleeping pretty deeply.

He staggers once he steps out into the cold, overcome by fatigue, and she places a hand on his elbow as they walk up the steps of her apartment complex.

By the time they reach her apartment, he looks like he's going to drop any second, and in the dimly entrance, he just stands there dumbly.

Faith closes the door behind them quietly, then gently lays her keys on the table and sheds her hat, gloves, and coat.

"You were supposed to call me when you left…" Fred whispers loudly, padding out into the kitchen. His voice trails off when he sees Bosco.

"Faith?" His tone is one of both surprise and accusation, and Faith gives him a pointed look.

"I'll talk to you in a minute, Fred. Let me get him settled," she says, moving quickly to pull off her rapidly fading partner's hat and gloves.

_"Settled?"_ Fred hisses, confused.

She opens her mouth to argue with him again, but is cut off abruptly when Bosco's knees finally give out and he begins sliding toward the floor.

"Bosco!" She huffs, alarmed, hooking her arms underneath his to catch him. "What are you doing?"

"Sorry. Really tired," he mumbles sluggishly, eyes set at half mast. He's so exhausted he can barely get his feet to hold his weight again.

"It's okay," she assures him, struggling to hold him up and slip off his coat at the same time.

"Fred, give me a hand!" She snaps at her gaping husband, and he moves to steady Bosco as she peels off his coat.

In two years, he's never seen his wife's partner look so weak and exhausted, and it unsettles him to the point of speechlessness.

Gently, Faith takes her partner's arm and leads him over to the couch.

"Lie down," she whispers, helping him ease back when his aching muscles protest.

"Tired…" he whispers again, and she shushes him.

"Fred, get me some pillows and blankets from the closet," she instructs her husband quietly.

Bosco is already half asleep by the time Fred returns, and she can't help but smile at how angry her strong-willed partner would be if he realized she was 'tucking him in'.

"'Night partner," she whispers as she tucks the blankets around his sleeping form.

Fred is waiting in the hallway, and follows her into the bedroom to talk.

"Faith, what are you doing? What is this? Why is he here?"

She sits on the bed tiredly, looking out the window as she speaks. "Fred, he almost died tonight. He's was hypothermic, and the doctors said if we'd gotten him to the hospital any later he probably wouldn't have made it. I could have lost him, tonight, Fred. I almost did."

"I know, but…doesn't he have his own family to go home to?" He asks, rubbing his balding head with his hand.

She shakes her head. "His mother's out of town."

"Well, is he alright? I mean…he looked pretty out of it. I don't want him collapsing tomorrow and scaring the kids."

"He should be okay. Bosco just doesn't stop until everything catches up with him; then his body _makes_ him stop. He's going to be tired and sore, but he'll be okay."

Her husband sighs, a sound of surrender, then moves to place warm, gentle hands on her shoulders.

"Christmas with Bosco?" he suggests. "Should be entertaining."

She grins and turns to kiss him. "Thank you for understanding."

* * *

Bosco moans as he awakens slowly to the sound of clanging dishes and the smells of breakfast.

"Ma?" He whispers hoarsely, wondering when she got back and how he ended up at her house.

He hears a high-pitched giggle, that of a child, and his eyes fly open in shock.

Emily and little Charlie are standing over him in their pajamas, grinning from ear to ear.

"Whoa!" He cries out in surprise, sitting up quickly.

His head swivels as he takes in his surroundings. He's in Faith's apartment.

Abruptly, the memories from the night before assault his mind, and he groans before sinking into the couch cushions and covering his eyes with his hand.

He hears another giggle, then, "Mommy! Uncle Bosco is awake!"

"You kids leave him be!" Faith shouts from the kitchen. "Emily, come help me cook."

Emily pouts her way to the kitchen, but Charlie remains, staring at him shyly.

Bosco figures he should say something. "Hey, Chuck."

"Did you bring presents?" Charlie asks expectantly, face breaking into a cautious smile.

"Charlie!" Fred admonishes him. "That's not polite."

"Why? Uncle B. brought us presents last year! Last year he got me a truck!"

Last year, Bosco had showed up at her door late Christmas day, dressed in a loose-fitting Santa suit, holding a backpack full of gifts for her kids.

He'd had a silly smile on his face, and blushed scarlet when she laughed at him.

"Hope it's okay," he'd said. She was laughing so hard she couldn't answer him, just let him inside.

"You tell anybody about this, and I'll have to kill you," he'd jokingly whispered.

"They wouldn't believe me, anyway," she'd told him with a grin.

She knows he did it because Fred had lost his job earlier that year, and she'd been complaining about not being able to give the kids a decent Christmas.

She'd had no idea that her temperamental partner even listened to what she said, much less cared enough to go out of his way to make her kids feel special.

It had completely shocked her, and added a new depth to their still-new partnership.

"Charlie, go wash your hands before breakfast," Faith says, stopping to smile at Bosco from the kitchen.

"Hey! How're you feeling this morning?"

"Uh…fine. M' fine," he lies, sitting up with a barely-masked wince. He's not fine. He feels like he has the flu and the worst hangover ever, combined.

He hadn't slept well all night. He kept dreaming about the little girl.

"Um…do you have any aspirin?" he asks hoarsely.

Her smile fades a bit with concern at his soft question.

"Sure, and I'll get you a glass of water."

As she is standing in front of him minutes later, watching him down the pills, he ducks his head guiltily.

"Faith, I don't have any…I mean, I didn't really have time this year to…to get anything."

"Don't worry about it," she assures him. "They're just greedy little buggers."

He shakes his head.

"I don't want to disappoint 'em," he says, inclining his head to where her children are chattering with their father out in the kitchen. "Maybe I should just head out, you know?"

"Bosco, that's ridiculous," she tells him with a small laugh. "They're fine. Once they start opening their presents they'll forget all about it, believe me. And you're staying."

Impulsively, she reaches out with one hand to smooth a tuft of his short hair with her fingers, the move being so subtle and swift that even she wonders if it really happened.

"You okay? You look like hell," she says, dropping her voice lower.

"Yeah, I'm just a little sore." He pauses, looking away. "I wonder how that little girl's doing."

"Yeah, I know," she admits, then glances over at the kitchen when she hears a loud clatter.

"Mommy, Charlie dropped the pan!" Emily whines loudly.

"She bumped into me!" Charlie retorts defensively.

"Alright, you two!" Fred raises his voice, bending to clean up the mess. "Go wait at the table."

"I'd better get out there," Faith says with a roll of her eyes. "Damage control."

She pauses and looks at him again, her green eyes soft against her cream cashmere sweater.

He still has that dazed, exhausted look in his eyes, and she doesn't want to push him to do anything.

"You sleep as long as you want, okay? You can even go back and use Charlie's bed, if you want."

"No, I'm good here – thanks," he assures her. He couldn't move right now if he wanted to.

She nods, then turns to walk back out into the kitchen as he calls to her.

"Hey, Faith? Merry Christmas," he says, and his gratefulness is evident in his eyes.

Her face practically glows at his simple words, and she smiles warmly.

"Merry Christmas, Bos."

* * *

"You sure he's okay?" Fred asks hours later, long after the presents have been opened and the kids were sent to their rooms to nap.

She's sitting on his lap at the kitchen table, a coffee mug in her hands.

Bosco had slept through the whole thing, barely moving; his breaths deep and even.

She'd checked on him several times, worried that he was unconscious, but he seemed alright. She hadn't had the heart to wake him, especially if he was tired enough to sleep through the squeals of her children over the crumpling sounds of ripped wrapping paper.

"I don't know. He's been laying there for a long time. And he hasn't eaten anything. I'd imagine he's hungry." She shakes her head. "I should probably wake him."

"I can't believe he slept through all that noise," Fred says with a snort, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

She stands and walks over to the couch, reaching down gently to shake Bosco's shoulder.

His eyes flutter open and he lifts his head, letting out a soft sigh. "Faith?"

"Yeah, sleepyhead. You slept through Christmas."

He sits up slowly, feeling much better than the first time he'd awakened.

"What? What time s'it?"

"It's 4:30," Fred tells him from the kitchen. "You want something to eat?"

"Yeah…yeah I'm starved," Bosco says, rubbing his hands over his face. "I can't believe I slept that long."

"I'm sorry – we must've been so loud," Faith says apologetically.

"Are you kiddin'? That's probably the best sleep I've had all year," Bosco tells her as he stretches.

It's the truth. The sounds and smells of Christmas at Faith's had a calming effect on him, lulling him into a deep, restful sleep.

Half the time he can't sleep in his own apartment over the deafening sound of silence – yet apparently he can pass out on Faith's couch with her kids screaming and laughing in the next room.

He's not even going to try to figure that one out.

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but she doesn't question him. He looks much better than he did six hours ago, and sounds better, too.

"Just so you know, Fred and I's parents will be coming over around six for dinner," she says. "You're welcome to join."

Bosco stands slowly, shaking his head. "Nah, I think I'll be out of here by then. Thanks, though."

"You should stop by late tonight – have drinks with me and Faith," Fred offers, ignoring his wife's look of surprise.

He's been wary of Bosco since Faith partnered with him, not liking the younger man's cavalier antics.

But he's always treated Fred with a measure of respect as Faith's husband, and that's been enough for him to be tentatively accepted as part of the family.

"Yeah?" Bosco asks, shooting Faith a questioning glance.

"Yeah, I mean…yeah," she agrees quickly. "That sounds good. You should stop by around 11."

"Uh…better make it 11:30, if that's okay. I got somewhere I need to be."

"Really? Where?" Faith asks, genuinely curious, since she knows his mom is out of town.

"Christmas Mass at Sacred Heart. I go every year, usually on Christmas Eve, but well…." he shrugs.

"No kiddin'? _You_ go to Mass? I didn't think you were the type, Bos." She gapes at him, completely surprised by this new information.

"It's tradition. Since I was a kid," he explains simply, and his eyes have this shy, open look that always makes her smile.

Then Fred places a reheated plate of leftovers from breakfast in front of him, and Bosco tears into it like he hasn't eaten in years.

While he's eating, Fred and Faith head out to living room, and Bosco can hear their whispers as they put on soft Christmas music.

He washes his plate in the sink before grabbing his coat, gloves, and hat, and heading out into the living area. He stands for a moment, lost in the scene before him.

Fred and Faith are dancing, slow and quiet, in the middle of the living room behind the couch.

It's like something out of a movie, and the child in Bosco is touched by the scene.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that he should be more jealous of Fred than he should be of Charlie and Emily. But he can't.

Because Fred and Faith are great together, and they mirror something he's always wanted since he was a small boy – two loving parents, and a real, functional family.

It makes the pang of knowing his own mother is upset with him hurt that much more, and he clears his throat to end the agony so he can get out of there.

"Oh! Sorry," Faith blushes, pulling away from her husband. "You leaving?"

"Yep. Thanks for the food, and well…everything. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Don't forget to stop by later, okay?" she tells him as she walks him to the door.

"I won't."

"Maybe I'll let you play with Charlie's presents like last year – how does that sound?" She jokes dryly.

He smiles at the rib, stepping out into the hallway.

"Hey Bosco," she begins, her voice uncertain.

"Yeah?"

"I was thinking…maybe you should call your mom, you know? She can't stay mad at you on Christmas."

His eyes drop to the floor. "I don't know, Faith…."

"I'm a mom, Bosco. I know how moms are. Trust me." He looks up at her, doubting.

"Just think about it, okay? I'll see you later," she says, then slowly shuts the door.

* * *

Later, when he stops by to share drinks and eggnog with her and Fred, he will tell her about how he called his mother and made amends. Then he will ask what Charlie got for Christmas, and Faith will show him her son's pile of gifts under the tree. He'll pick out one or two cool toys to fiddle with while he talks to them, her and Fred teasing him all the while.

Before he leaves for the night, Faith will stop him in the doorway, a gentle hand on his arm.

"Sully called me earlier. That little girl you saved? She woke up. She's been reunited with her mother, and she's gonna be okay."

He will let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, head bobbing at her words. And she will see in his eyes that it's the best gift he could have received.

As he turns toward the door, he'll apologize, in his own way of course, for not having bought any gifts for her or her children this Christmas.

"I feel like maybe I should've given you and the kids something this year."

She will think of how many times he's saved her life this year, and all the times that he's put her needs and her family before his own.

And her eyes will fill with tears as she tells him honestly, "You already have."

* * *

**A/N**: Blessings to all this holiday season! Be safe.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note**: So, in the process of working out my next chapter for "Coming Full Circle", the muse drove me to finish this chapter instead.

I do think you'll all be pleased. ;)

**Chapter 3**: Warning

* * *

Faith Yokas stands at her locker, staring at a piece of stained and crumpled paper loosely gripped in her trembling hand. She has to fight down a feeling of nausea as she stares at the scribbled words written on the torn page. Gradually, the sights, sounds, and smells of the 55th precinct's locker room begin to dim until she becomes lost in her own thoughts, oblivious to the world around her.

It's their third year of partnership, and they've never come across anything or anyone that they could honestly describe as being _sinister_.

The kinds of criminals they deal with on the daily basis are often misguided, selfish, and lacking common sense – but sinister? No.

As Bosco puts it, the average criminal is just a "stupid jag-off," dangerous in his own right, but not particularly menacing.

Since joining the force, they have witnessed crimes of passion resulting in the kind of violence and mayhem which might shock the ordinary citizen. They've seen dead bodies. They've been at the scenes of violent homicides. They've observed first-hand the evils wrought at the hands of the deranged and mentally ill – harmless but for the fact that they forgot to take their medication. They have even arrested men and women for committing atrocities against children out of some perverse pleasure or vile addiction.

Disgusting? Absolutely. But _sinister_? Not really.

During one of her many RMP-passenger-side-monologue/rants, Faith once said, "there's a difference between crimes of passion, where somebody kills somebody in a moment of anger, and the sadistic kind of bastards you read about in books who prey on people, torture them, and play mind games with them."

After her speech, Bosco had whipped his head to the right, his brow scrunched up in an expression of disgust. "What the hell kind of books do you _read_?"

They've never experienced the kind of evil that plots and plans to cause harm, just for sport. That kind of stuff is for Hollywood, sleazy horror movies, or those cheap psychological thrillers that somehow manage to make the best-seller list – not the real world.

Not until now.

It's their third year of partnership, and it's taken them this long to finally piss off the wrong criminal.

It's four words scribbled on a piece of scrap paper, yet the threat is ominous.

'_We've got your partner.'_

Her eyes are drawn to the drops of blood splattered and smudged liberally along the edges of the paper. Her gut tells her immediately what the forensics lab will take hours to analyze: it's Bosco's blood.

* * *

By now, he's been missing for over 72 hours – three whole days.

She's called and checked every person and place she could think of, even managing to track down his father and brother (no easy feat) to demand answers. But no one has seen or heard from him.

It is as if he simply vanished.

Faith is at her wit's end. She cannot fathom what could have happened to her partner.

She's been working tirelessly since Bosco was officially deemed a 'missing person,' and just hours ago was demanding info about something, _anything_ from the detectives upstairs.

"_We've got no evidence, no motive, no demands, no nothing – we've got nothing," she said with a pause, staring hopelessness in the face. "Is that what you're telling me?" _

"_No distinguishing fingerprints were found, in his apartment or his car," detective Grimaldi replied in his thick Brooklyn accent. "It's like the guy vanished."_

"_God, there has to be something…something you're missing," she said, leaning bone-weary arms against the older man's untidy desk. _

"_The boss has got practically the whole department working non-stop on this case, and nobody's found one lead," the detective needlessly reminded her, throwing his fat head back to swallow a gulp of coffee out of the Styrofoam cup in his hand. _

_He continued, reciting things she already knows, heedless of her personal agony. _

"_Forensics already went through everything. There were no signs of forced entry at his place, his car is still sitting out front of his apartment complex where he'd left it; nothing was out of the ordinary," he stretching out chubby arms in exasperation. "Maybe the guy just took off."_

_Faith's eyes narrowed instantly, her voice hard. "What are you sayin', Jelly?"_

"_People do it all the time. They're unhappy with their lives, so they take off for Mexico or some tropical island. Poof," he snapped his fingers. "Never seen or heard from again. It happens."_

"_He wouldn't do that," Faith says, breathless with anger. "How could you say that?" _

"_Hey, I mean no disrespect…." He threw up his hands in a gesture of non-offense. _

"_Jelly!" She barked, incensed by his nonchalance. "He's my partner. I __know__ him. He's __missing__."_

_The older detective stared are her for a moment, then shrugged, his eyes conveying a rare glimmer of compassion. "It's a better thought than the alternative, right?"_

_The alternative being that her partner is being held somewhere and tortured, or worse, that he's lying dead in some obscure back alley…. _

"_We have to find him, Jelly," she whispered, eyes brimming with emotion. "You understand? We – I have to find him." She had to leave then, before she broke down completely. _

After she shows the note to Grimaldi, he asks Lt. Swersky to seal off the locker room as a crime scene.

He and Captain "Stick" Elchisak proceed to grill her for hours, trying to get her to think of anyone whom Bosco might have pissed off lately. …Well, pissed off more than usual.

She can think of nothing out of the ordinary. Just their everyday criminals.

It's starting to get her. She hasn't slept in two days. She hasn't had one moment's peace since she found that horrible note in her locker. Fred is worried about her, begging her to come home and rest, but she refuses. Bosco is her sole concern, and her fear for him consumes her mind. She's sure she missed something, because a person does not just disappear without a trace.

A few more precious hours pass, and Swersky informs her that the department expert analyzed the handwriting, his results being inconclusive. The Lieutenant makes the suggestion that maybe this was an 'inside' job, because of the note in the locker room. Out of concern for her safety, he assigns Sully and Davis to be her personal watchdogs until the investigation is complete.

Faith now sees even her co-workers as potential suspects, enemies.

So many of them hold grudges against Bosco for one reason or another – but who would actually kidnap and hurt him? When she starts scrutinizing the facial twitches of every person she comes in contact with, she knows it's too much. Her own precinct has become a place full of danger.

Filled with distrust, she escapes Sully and Davis' watchful eyes and leaves the stationhouse.

She walks briskly in the dark, destination unknown.

All they have is the note. Someone has her partner, but does not seem to want anything in exchange for his safe return. Is it merely a taunting gesture? Something meant to torture her psychologically?

If so, she cannot survive another three days of this. She will go insane.

She _has_ to find him.

* * *

The last time Faith saw her partner, was at the end of their last shift together – it was a Wednesday, and they'd actually finished up the paperwork at a decent hour. It was just before midnight, the mid-April air was crisp and cool, and Bosco was going to walk home.

"_Why don't you take the subway with me?" She had asked, already knowing what his answer would be. _

"_Faith, there's no way I'm gonna share the same air with those people."_

"'_Those people,' Bos?" She raised her eyebrows in mock annoyance._

"_I mean uh…I mean the air out here is just so much better," he stammered, trying to fix his blunder._

"_Uh-huh," she replied, hiding an amused grin. "See ya' tomorrow."_

"_See ya', Faith." _

Apparently, he'd never made it home.

Thursday morning, Bosco was a no-show, and Sergeant Mackis hadn't been pleased.

"_Boscorelli knows that he's supposed to call in if he's sick," she'd lectured Faith. _

"_I know Sarge, I'm sure there's a good explanation." _

"_With Boscorelli, it's always something," the woman had snorted, turning away. _

She'd tried calling him on her lunch break, then called his mother at her bar, then called the station to see if he'd checked yet. On her second meal break, she went knocking on his apartment door and got no answer, and that's when she began to feel uneasy.

Swersky already had the crime lab go through the place with a fine-toothed comb, but she can't trust that, now. She can't trust anyone, anymore.

After a few minutes of aimless wandering, her feet, seemingly with a mind of their own, begin to lead her toward his apartment. She hasn't had a chance to look there herself, yet.

'_Maybe there's something they missed,'_ she thinks. _'Something only I would notice.'_

Her breath quickens as she determinedly climbs the stairs to his apartment on 82nd street.

'_Please, please let me find something,'_ she begins to pray as she heads down his hall.

To her utter disbelief, her prayers are answered – and much sooner than she could have imagined.

At first, when her gaze falls on the dark-clad figure slumped against Bosco's door, her brain comes to a stuttering halt. For a moment, she forgets to breathe.

She cannot comprehend what she's seeing, and she certainly can't accept it.

It's him. There is no mistaking his solid form, still dressed in the clothes she last saw him wearing.

This is not how she'd played it out in her head. This was not one of the myriad of scenarios she'd envisioned. It goes against everything she learned in criminal psychology; hell, it goes against anything she's ever read in a fictional crime novel, for Bosco's captors to just _let him go_, much less dump him at such a conspicuous location.

Then a thought forms. _'He's dead. They killed him and left him here for me to find.'_

It's enough to bring her to her knees, yet she remains upright.

As she inches closer to the body, a sob erupts from her throat. He's covered in blood and bruises, his limbs lying haphazardly around him, as if his captors had literally just tossed him onto the floor.

She bends down, the tears spilling over her eyes and down her cheeks as she witnesses the full damage done to his battered, motionless body.

His face is mottled with hues of purple and black and blue. His left eye is swollen shut; his right is rimmed by a shiner, the eyebrow sporting a deep 2 inch long gash. Dried blood is crusted under his nose, smeared across his chin and forehead. She notices another gash along his hairline. Her eyes travel to his lips, swollen and purple and sporting numerous cuts. Her hand brushes against his unmoving chest, and she notices that his jacket, too, is torn and stiff with dried blood.

She cannot suppress a shudder. "Oh, Bosco…what did they do to you?"

Her eye catches a folded piece of paper lying in his lap; her hands reach for it and open it as if they have minds of their own.

'_Consider this a warning.'_

"Bastards," she whispers furiously. Then, "son of a bitch."

She does not know what to do with the anger suddenly coursing through her, so she stands, hands bracing against the wall, tears still streaming down her cheeks as she gasps for air.

They killed her partner, and she doesn't even know who 'they' are, or why. All she knows is that a light in her life has been extinguished, and it's not fair. It's not right.

A bitter taste fills her mouth. She doesn't want to be a cop anymore. Not after this. Not without him.

The wave of emotions coursing through her is profound, and the harsh sounds of Faith's sobs echo off the walls. Her grief is so intense that she almost misses the small sound below her.

Her body tenses, and her eyes travel down to stare at the motionless body.

A tiny, broken moan falls from her partner's lips.

Her partner, whom she was seconds ago certain was dead. For a moment she can only stare in shock. Then her brain finally catches up with her. Dead people don't moan.

"Oh, my God! Bosco! Oh, thank God!"

Tears fall anew as she drops to her knees, cradling his filthy, blood-crusted face in her shaking hands.

"Bosco? Bosco, talk to me."

"...aith…?"

It is a single half-gasped word – yet it is music to her ears.

An overwhelming sense of relief washes over her, and she finds herself nearly hysterical with relief.

'_He's alive! He's alive!'_

She's so close to his face that she can feel the heat of his every breath on her skin. The sensation is enough ease the burden she's been carrying in her soul, the horrible weight of worry and fear and grief. Just feeling the tingling of each shallow exhale against her tear-stained skin washes it all away, leaving her feeling light again, like after a cool spring rain.

Then suddenly, before she realizes what she is doing, her lips are crashing against his, Bosco's blood mixing with her desperate tears.

His swollen eyes shoot open to slits, and he attempts to mumble her name, sounding confused. This brings her to her senses. Gently releasing his battered face, Faith pulls away, eyes wide with the realization of what she's just done.

"Oh, my god," this time her astonished voice is tainted with guilt. "I'm so sorry."

The moment had lasted mere seconds, but she has no time to contemplate its ramifications. Bosco winces, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably against the door. Another soft moan falls from his lips, successfully shaking Faith out of her brief reverie.

She pulls her cell phone from her pocket, flips it open, and dials 911. She hurriedly rattles off her badge number and the address to the dispatcher, asking for backup and an ambulance. Once the call ends, she tosses the phone to the side, reaching out for her wounded partner.

"Bosco, I called an ambulance – you're gonna be okay, just stay with me," she soothes, one hand grasping his jacket. His only answer is to shift again, then cry out hoarsely in pain.

"What? What can I do, Bosco? Where does it hurt?"

"Ev…ev'rywh're…." He mumbles, breathing rapid, harsh breaths.

Unable to watch him struggle anymore, Faith slides next to him against the wall, carefully maneuvering until his back is resting in her lap, his head lolling against her upper arm.

"Who did this to you, huh? Bosco? Who hurt you like this?"

"Don' know…jag-off jus' bea'…bea' th' shit out 'f me."

"I know, I can see that," she retorts dryly. "Just hang on though, alright? I hear the sirens already."

"Not goin' any…anywh're," he slurs.

They're silent for a few moments as Faith expectantly watches the entrance to the hallway, the fingers of her right hand massaging circles into the back of her partner's bloody hand.

"You fought back," she comments. Of course he did. He's Bosco. And from the looks of it, he fought back _hard_. His hands are all torn up.

"Shoul' see th' oth'r guy…."

She snickers at that, but grows somber at his next question.

"Did you…did you jus'…kiss…me?" His voice is small and unsure, and she sighs as she quickly reassures him.

"Yeah. I did."

"Oh. 'Kay. Jus'…checkin'."

"Yeah, well don't get any ideas. I'm a married woman."

A painful, shit-eating grin spreads across his face, and Faith knows she'll never hear the end of this, just as she knows with equal certainty that Fred will never find out about it.

"Knew…you l'ved m-e…." he chokes out, teasing, and she pushes aside her alarm at his growing difficulty breathing to smile for him.

"There's that pompous ego again," she retorts lightly.

She can hear the clomping feet of the paramedics making their way upstairs, and is able to relax marginally, knowing that her partner will soon be safe.

She doesn't understand how, or why; all she knows is that her partner was given back to her.

The last note had said, _'Consider this a warning.'_

She takes it for its true meaning – a warning that life is short; that Bosco could be taken from her at anytime. All they have is today, moment by moment.

* * *

Epilogue:

Later, at the hospital, Faith finally gets her answers about Bosco's disappearance and injuries.

The man responsible was none other than Mark Verniero, the grief-stricken older brother of a man who'd been arrested by Bosco for drug possession and later killed in prison. Mark was a custodian who worked graveyard shift at the precinct, which is how the note came to be in Faith's locker.

He and a couple friends ambushed Bosco just a few blocks away from his apartment, then held him in the cellar of a house in the Bronx. They beat him savagely, and their plan had been to kill him, but in the eleventh hour, Mark couldn't stomach it. After dumping Bosco in front of his apartment door, he drove down to the precinct and turned himself in.

When Faith visits him a day later, he cries and begs for her forgiveness.

A sinister man? Hardly.

As for Bosco, the wounds will heal. He will be on sick leave for a few months recovering from four broken ribs, multiple metacarpal fractures in both hands, a broken zygomatic bone, a concussion, and surgery to fix a punctured lung.

She's loathe to ever talk about that kiss, but knows Bosco will demand the conversation once he's more coherent.

She also knows he will freak out about it, and there will be time to worry about the consequences, about if it will change them.

For now, it's enough just to have him alive and whole. Having Bosco is enough.

Faith realizes they are lucky, and considers it a warning that they might not always be so.

* * *

**A/N**: Weiver. That "review" backwards. Please. With sugar on top. :P

In this chapter, I wanted to do a kind of 'nothing is as it seems' theme. Meaning, I didn't want to write the average Faith/Bosco thriller, where there's an evil dude bent on their destruction, blah, blah, blah. Not that there's anything wrong with that! I just wanted this to be different, maybe a little more original.

I hope that was achieved.

Metacarpal – bones in the hand

Zygomatic – cheek bone


End file.
